


The First Footer

by chazpure



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-22
Updated: 2011-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:29:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chazpure/pseuds/chazpure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's New Year's Eve, and time for new beginnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Footer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bethbethbeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethbethbeth/gifts).



> Written for Bethbethbeth for the 2005 Smutty Claus Exchange. (Post HPB)

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
And never brought to mind?  
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,  
And auld lang syne?_

 _CHORUS:  
For auld lang syne, my dear,  
For auld lang syne,  
We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,  
For auld lang syne!_

 _December 31, 1997_

It had been a terrible year, Minerva thought as she sat looking out the window. A long, frightening and terrible year.

The sun was sinking behind the mountain, drawing the sky down with it in a rush of red and gold and splashing the snowy slopes with brilliant color. It was a glorious Gryffindor sunset, but somehow she didn't feel it in her soul the way she might have, in happier times.

She stirred up the fire with a wave of her wand and settled back into her chair, wondering if she had done the right thing, forbidding any students from staying at school over the winter holidays. It had seemed a better idea to send them all home to be with their families in these dark and uncertain times, particularly in view of Tom Riddle's obsession with Hogwarts. The castle had been ringingly empty once they'd all left for Yule, but she would far rather have it cold and deserted than filled with frightened children and under siege.

That time may yet come, a sardonic voice said in her head.

Well, and so it may, but we're not dead yet, she told it firmly. (She refused to notice how much it sounded like one particular person.)

Emptying the school for the holidays had let her indulge one little pleasure she had denied herself for years; she had taken her own advice and gone home, right after putting the final touches on the school wards for Yule. The old farmhouse tucked into the hollow of the hills had been in the family for generations, but she seldom stayed there, especially with the extra demands on her time ever since she had become Deputy Headmistress.

The irony of being able to spend her first holidays as Head of Hogwarts here was considerable.

In the gathering darkness outside her window, lights began blooming. The village was sufficiently Muggle and modernized to have electric streetlamps, but the warmer, cheerier glow of candle, lamp and firelight shone from cottages and farmhouses dotted across the hills and along the mountain track. There would be bonfires soon as well. Laughter and bits of song floated up from the village, as Hogmanay celebrations swung into high gear.

There would be no festive gathering here on the eve of this New Year, although true to her upbringing, she had swept the house clean and burnt fragrant herbs to cleanse the air, and she had food and drink aplenty in readiness, as well as a warm fire for any visitor who might light at her door. She had not lacked for invitations, either, from relations, former students, colleagues... _friends_...

The mere thought was bitter.

She had turned them all down, claiming a need to gather her thoughts and her forces for the next term. The Order members all had the means to contact her, and of course neither London nor Hogsmeade was more than an apparition away. She wasn't truly shut away from the world, no matter how remote and isolated this place was.

She poured herself a cup of tea and opened a new book. She would be able to hear the singing from the village for hours, so she might as well make herself comfortable and enjoy it.

Snow began falling sometime after 10; she only noticed it when a knot popped in the fire and she glanced toward the window. The revelers in the village didn't seem to mind; there were large clumps of people moving back and forth in the streets, and here and there she could see doors opening, spilling their firelit warmth out onto the snowy lanes.

All throughout the village, there would be feasting and drinking and singing and laughter and the comfort of loving families and friends gathered together to greet the New Year. Minerva smiled a little sadly as she watched them, remembering happier times, bustling holidays at Hogwarts, with Filius charming tiny fairies into the branches of Christmas trees and Pomona roguishly booby-trapping the Great Hall with mistletoe, and dear, dear Albus...

Her vision swam for a moment as she remembered Albus insisting on everyone sitting up to welcome in the New Year, telling tales of holiday customs from around the world and passing around the hot buttered rum, or neat brandy for certain people who were adamantly opposed to any form of holiday cheer...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 _December 31, 1981_

They'd shared holidays together for several years by that point. He'd had to stay at school over Christmas a time or two as a student, and since he had returned to teach, he seldom left the school grounds other than on business - either Hogwarts' or Dumbledore's - and certainly never for pleasure. It struck her suddenly, as she watched him observing the festivities in the Great Hall with his customary dour expression, that she'd never seen him really _enjoying_ the holidays. He always professed great relief at a respite from his "dunderheaded students," of course, but the traditional celebrations associated with the winter holidays (Yule, Chanukah, Christmas, Hogmanay, New Year's, Twelfth Night...Albus observed them all with joyous and gleeful impartiality; he'd been talking about looking into Kwanzaa traditions for next year) never seemed to mean anything to him.

It wasn't right. Everyone ought to be able to find _something_ to celebrate at this time of renewal! Particularly this year, with Voldemort's defeat already two months behind them! Minerva took another long drink of her hot buttered rum, smiling as it sent a pleasant glow all the way down to her toes, snug in their tartan slippers.

Severus was still sneering over his brandy snifter.

The crabbit auld sod! How such a young wizard could be so very old was quite beyond her. She made up her mind and got determinedly to her feet, wobbling just a tad as she marched across the Hall to him.

"Well, Severus! Have ye made any resolutions for the New Year, then?" She knew she was ever so slightly tipsy, but she was perfectly in control of herself.

Severus raised one sardonic eyebrow. "Resolutions, Professor McGonagall?" he asked dryly.

"Certainly! 'Tis Hogmanay, New Year's Eve! An excellent time to reflect on the past and look to the future!"

"Indeed?"

His detached amusement annoyed her. "Yes, Severus! This will be the first New Year in fifteen or more dawning without the shadow of You-Know-Who looming over it!" she snapped. "'Tis a time to be celebrated and an opportunity for new beginnings for all. I should think we've _all_ a number of resolutions to make!"

The amused smirk left his face and he stared at her coldly. "Ah, of course this... _victory_ and pristine New Year are wholly occasions for celebration. How odd. Perhaps I should resolve not to spend whatever remaining fragments there may be of my wretched life feeding the Dementors and howling at the shadows in Azkaban? Unfortunately, I fear the Wizengamot may have other plans for me. If you will excuse me, Professor?" He bowed slightly and whirled, stalking off without another word.

Minerva stared after him, her heart suddenly in her throat. What the...? Oh, dear Merlin, the Wizengamot had his name on the list of known Death Eaters, of course! There would be an inquiry, possibly a trial. But surely, Albus...

The great clock in the tower began to chime the first strokes of the New Year. Albus cried out, "Happy New Year, everyone!" and the Great Hall was suddenly filled with light and a virtual snowstorm of streamers and glitter in the colours of the four Houses.

Flitwick's piping voice began the first notes of Auld Lang Syne, and the other teachers were waving at her to join them, but Minerva had no stomach for it any more. She forced a smile and shook her head, then left the Hall as rapidly as she could without running.

Once safely in her quarters, she poured herself a glass of good Scots whisky. Severus was probably right, she thought. The defeat of You Know Who did not mean that all his evils had been undone. There would be consequences coming to light for years to come.

She took another swallow. A New Year, a new beginning. There would be no new beginning for poor James and Lily...and poor little Harry Potter...the Prophet had dubbed him "The Boy Who Lived," and you couldn't walk down Diagon Alley without hearing his name...poor wee laddie, left alone with those horrible Muggles...

She felt tears welling in her eyes and took another swallow. Lily and James...and poor hapless Peter Pettigrew...

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter," she said, quickly wiping her eyes and hoping her voice wasn't too choked.

The door swung open and Severus came in, hanging his head. "Professor McGonagall, I...I regret my behaviour this evening," he said quietly. "I had no right to speak to you like that."

"Severus, do sit down," she said, patting the couch beside her. "It's quite all right. For a moment, I forgot how much we had lost...how much still remains to be done." She leaned forward and put her hand on his arm as he sat down. "Forgive me, Severus. I never meant to make light of your troubles."

Severus tensed slightly as she touched him. "No apology is necessary, Professor." He looked just a bit abashed as he reached into his robe and brought out a bottle. "I seem to recall it is...traditional for callers to bring spirits at Hogmanay?"

Minerva smiled through the tears she was still trying to restrain. "Och, aye! And a fine spirit it is!" She took the bottle from him, summoned another glass, and poured them both a wee tot... "A Happy New Year, Severus. Better and brighter days." She raised her glass and let the mellow old whisky slide down her throat. It was a fine, rare old malt; she hadn't tasted its like in quite a long time.

Severus sipped his drink as if it were a glass of warm milk.

Minerva sighed. "I was just thinking of poor little Harry, sent off to live with those dreadful Muggles."

"Lily's family?" Severus asked.

"Oh, of course, you would know, wouldn't you? Yes, Lily's sister and her family. Quite the most unpleasant people, really."

"Lily and her sister were not especially close, as I recall," Severus said. "I met her once...Prudence? No, Petunia. Petunia disapproved of Lily, magic, and me, in no discernable order." There was a tiny spark of mischief in his eyes.

"Severus! What did you do?"

He shrugged dismissively. "Not as much as she deserved. I thought the green hair was a decided improvement." He took another sip of whisky. "It was fashionable that year, anyway."

Minerva giggled, somewhat to her embarrassment.

Severus almost smiled at the sound.

"It's a long time since I've seen you smile, Severus," Minerva said fondly, patting his knee.

He stiffened and shuttered his emotions at once. "There has been little to smile about."

Oh, he was still thinking about the trials, poor dear. Minerva leaned forward and looked at him intently. "Severus, I know you're concerned, but I'm sure Albus will be able to clear your name."

He stared gloomily into his glass. "Perhaps. But Albus promised me only an opportunity to redress some of my sins by working to bring about the Dark Lord's fall. He never promised absolution...or protection from the Ministry."

"Severus," she said, gripping his knee and _willing_ him to believe her, "Albus will not abandon you, not after all you've done. And nor will I. I will gladly testify on your behalf, and if, Powers forfend, it should come to that point, I swear I will not let them take you. I _swear_ it, Severus!"

He looked up at that, something burning in those dark eyes that she had never seen there before.

"Minerva," he said huskily, and leaned forward, reaching out one long, pale hand to brush her cheek gently.

Her face felt damp where his fingers touched; she was crying again, damn it. She tilted her head, leaning into his caress and feeling the crackle and thrum of magic running from his fingertips all through her spine. She had to resist the impulse to purr. Instead, she moved toward him and was not at all surprised to feel his lips, tentative and gentle, brush where his fingers had, then kiss her forehead, before moving hesitantly to her mouth.

They were thin lips, unused to touching anyone, but she did not find them lacking. She parted her lips and welcomed them. Severus's breath was sweet and overlaid with the taste of fine whisky. She wrapped her arms around him, barely able to feel his lean, spare frame beneath the voluminous robes he always wore. He kissed her as if it were the one thing he had wanted and needed all his life, yet could scarcely believe it was real. She flicked her tongue lightly over his lips and urged them apart, then ran it slowly over his crooked teeth and stroked along his own clever Slytherin tongue.

Severus made a sound she couldn't identify, but suddenly his own arms were around her and he had pulled her tight against him. She felt his heart beating against hers, despite his layers of robes and her own dressing gown. His kiss lost its hesitancy and his tongue slid against hers, slithering over and under it, darting over her lips and flickering past her teeth to explore her mouth with delicious thoroughness.

She groaned as he bit gently at her lips, while his hands caressed her from nape to knee. She would never have believed Severus Snape such a sensualist. His fingers ran back up her neck and twined in her hair, loosening it from its customary knot and letting it cascade over his hands. She ran her own hands up his back and raked her fingers through his hair, suppressing a smile as the lank and greasy locks slipped across her skin. She scratched lightly at the base of his skull and along his neck and was rewarded with a little moan.

She nibbled at his lips and swiped the tip of her tongue over them once more, before moving to nip and kiss along his lightly stubbled jaw and down the pale column of his throat. His pulse was racing; she could feel the great vein in his neck throbbing as she bit down on the skin, then soothed the bite with little kisses and caresses of her tongue.

His hands swept down from her hair, tracing the line of her spine, then finally daring to cup her bottom and squeeze, gently at first, then tightly. She wriggled in pleasure and pressed against him, delighted to feel the proof of his arousal pressing against her. She slipped her hands around and reached for his top button.

Suddenly, he startled and pulled back, eyes wild. "Min-- Professor, I..." he fairly jumped to his feet. "Again, I apologize," he said, hoarsely. "I had no intention...the whisky...I..." Words seemed to fail him. He turned and fled.

Minerva stared after him for about a heartbeat, wondering what the hell had gone wrong. She closed her eyes for a moment, assessing. No, she wasn't really drunk...well, perhaps just a wee bit tipsy, but hardly _drunk_. Her body was still thrumming from his touch. And he...no. No, damn it! She was not going to let this pass! She leapt to her feet and went after him, muttering a sobriety spell as she ran.

As she rounded the corner outside her quarters, she caught a glimpse of black robes moving along, a level below her. She leapt forward, transforming as she moved, and landed on all four sure-footed grey paws. She bounded down the corridor, far faster and more silently than she could have managed in human form. She leapt from the landing to the banister of the staircase below her, and then down to the floor below that. She could hear and smell Severus just ahead of her. His scent spoke of lust, frustration, regret and bitter self-recrimination.

She padded silently along the wall, invisible in the shadows, until she was just behind him. As he turned past the entrance to the library, she pounced.

As her claws snagged the fabric of his robes, she transformed again, her weight and momentum bearing him forward into the door. He spun, his wand out and at her throat before she could blink, before he seemed to recognize her and slipped it back into his robes.

"Prof--"

"Severus Snape," she hissed at him, "don't you _dare_ run away from me!"

"I did not intend...we have both imbibed more than is prudent," he began, but she put one hand over his mouth.

"I am quite sober, Severus, and the day half a dram of whisky - even _that_ whisky! - befuddles _you_ is the day I pack you off to Adelaide Arkleby's Addlepated Aged Wizards' Home!" She pulled her hand off his mouth and replaced it with her lips.

He struggled only momentarily, before his lips softened beneath hers and he groaned. His arms went around her and he kissed her hungrily. "Minerva," he breathed, moving his mouth to her throat. His teeth grazed her skin, before his lips fastened on her neck and he sucked, sending a wave of fiery pleasure blazing straight to her core.

She ran her hand down the row of buttons on his coat until she reached the lower edge and slipped her fingers along the placket of his trousers. His arousal had returned, if it had ever abated; he was hard and hot beneath the fine wool. She stroked his firm length through the fabric, savouring the feel of him and the catch in his breath when she cradled him and gently squeezed.

A burst of laughter and discordant song came drifting up the stairwell. Severus tensed, but she reached behind him and pushed the door open, then pushed him back into the library and pulled the door closed behind them. Without giving him a chance to protest, she bore him back up against a desk and latched onto his wicked mouth again, wrapping her fingers in his oily locks and crushing her lips to his. She pulled back only a moment to focus on his robes, a black void in the soft moonlight that was their only illumination. Wordlessly, she transfigured them into black feathers that fell in an ebony cloud about their feet, leaving him in his crisp white shirt and soft linen drawers. She grinned wickedly at him as her own dressing gown and night robes vanished, landing atop the feathers as a tangle of red and gold ribbons.

She stood nude before him, smiling at the hunger in his dark eyes. She launched herself at him as lightly as if she were in her other form, landing astride his hips with her knees on the table. She growled softly and raked her nails down his back as his hands found her soft flesh and stroked it, wonderingly. She murmured a spell and nipped his earlobe as the buttons on his shirt undid themselves and the shirt fell open. She slipped a hand inside and felt the smoothness of his chest, interrupted by the puckered ridges of old scars. She traced his prominent collarbones and the tiny nipples that hardened under her fingertips. She dipped her head to lick at the hollow of his throat, then moved downward to lave his nipple and worry it gently with her teeth.

Severus groaned again, then suddenly seized her and turned them around so that she was sitting on the table. He covered her face and neck in kisses as his hands cradled her breasts and teased her nipples to painful points. He moved down, kissing a trail along her neck, down between her breasts and around them, suckling on each nipple in turn and grazing them with his teeth until she wanted to scream from the painful pleasure of it.

His hands were on her waist as he knelt before her and they slipped along her thighs, urging them apart. She was only too happy to comply. He kissed the soft skin of her belly and nibbled gently at her navel, dipping his tongue in and out in what had better damned well be a promise! He continued downward, moving to kiss and bite gently at her inner thighs, before his long, thin fingers carded through her dark curls and stroked slowly along her slit.

She was dripping wet, and she could smell his arousal mingling with her own. She twined her fingers in his hair as he bent forward and licked, slowly and maddeningly lightly along the path his finger had taken. She spread her legs wider and scooted forward, silently inviting him and urging him onward.

He licked her again, torturously slow, but firmer than before, and at the apex of his stroke, his tongue languorously traced a circle about her clitoris, making her gasp. One hand cupped her mons and squeezed it gently, before two long fingers spread her lips, and he breathed gently on her tender, waiting flesh. Minerva bit back a scream as he carefully licked all around her hardened clit without actually touching it, paying particularly dedicated attention to the slight hollow above it and the engorged folds that led down to the centre of her sex.

How the sounds even penetrated, she never knew, but suddenly she heard voices coming down the corridor, outside the library. Severus's wickedly inventive tongue was thoroughly occupied with teasing the edges of her hole, darting in and out just a fraction, over and over, before lightly tracing the edge again and flickering back up to circle her clit with equal precision. She managed to focus just long enough to cast a privacy ward and silencing spell on the library door before Severus closed his lips over her turgid clit and sucked on it.

She nearly pulled his hair out by the roots, but managed to restrain herself. His teeth slid up from the base to the head of her clit, grazing over the tiny glans. A jolting spasm shot through her at the sensation. He slipped long two fingers in her dripping quim, then three, and began moving them in and out as he stroked her clit with that amazing tongue.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, and it was a good thing she kept her nails short and tidy, or there would have been blood spilt as she clung to him. He closed his lips over her clit again and sucked it, then ran his tongue through her folds once more before sitting back on his heels. He... _smiled_ at her and carefully drew his fingers back, holding them up for her to see as he licked her juices off them. His eyes glittered.

He rose up and she seized the waistband of his drawers as soon as they were within reach, ripping them from him and flinging her legs about his bony waist. He wrapped his arms around her and picked her up, pressing her back against one of the ancient stacks and kissing her deeply. For all there wasn't a spare ounce of flesh on his form, he was far stronger than she would have guessed. She tasted herself on his tongue and tightened her grasp on him, reaching down to find his swollen cock where it was trapped between them. She curled her fingers around it and stroked it, slipping the foreskin back and rubbing her thumb in slow circles over the weeping head.

"I think we might well put this to good use," she breathed in his ear as she stroked him. He put his hands on her arse and lifted her higher, then let her guide him as he pulled her down, sheathing himself in one smooth thrust. He paused when he had sunk in to the hilt, and she felt him tremble. She kissed his neck and murmured encouragingly, wrapping her arms around him and clinging to his shoulders. "Yes, _yes_ , my dear! Oh, yes!" she cried as he began to thrust into her.

He shifted them a bit, bringing exquisite pressure to bear against her already oversensitized clit as he fucked her. She bit down on his shoulder to keep from yowling like a queen in heat, and she felt his loose shirt shredding under her nails as she clawed at him, but couldn't bring herself to care.

It had been quite a long time since her last lover, but her inner muscles were in fine tone and she clamped down, squeezing him until she heard him gasp and begin slamming into her harder still.

Pleasure was racing through her in fiery blasts of red and white and gold and green, and she threw her head back and screamed as her entire body shook with the spasms of her orgasm. She clamped her jolting muscles down on his throbbing cock and squeezed her thighs tight around him until she heard him shout and felt his cock jerking as he spent himself within her.

He collapsed against her, holding her pinned against the bookshelf, his sweaty hair wet on her shoulder and his breath coming in great panting gasps.

"One hundred points to Slytherin, Mr. Snape, for admirable First Footing" she managed to say, before everything went black.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 _December 31, 1997_

Minerva woke with a start. She blinked owlishly at her surroundings until her mind had caught up with the present day.

 _Oh, Severus!_

They had not really become _lovers_ after that memorable time, though they were always more than friends. On rare occasions, they seemed to find their way to each other's bed and managed to take what comfort they could from what they shared. The last time had been just after the prior school year had begun.

Damn it, woman, she told herself, you swore you would _not_ get maudlin, up here by yourself!

There was a faint knock at the door.

Wondering if she had imagined it, or if the sound had awakened her, she frowned at the door and listened. Nothing. She was about to return to her book when the sound repeated, even fainter than before. She rose and went to the door, her hand in her pocket wrapped firmly about her wand. Maudlin she might be, but a fool she was not.

The ancient clock on the mantelpiece began to chime, and she heard the familiar strains of "Auld Lang Syne" ringing out in a shaky, out of tempo chorus from the village below.

"Yes?" she said, one hand on the doorknob.

There was no reply, only another faint knock, this time hardly more than a tap. Impatiently, she pulled the door open.

A tall, dark man stood on her porch, leaning against the doorframe as if he needed the support. He was bareheaded - an alarming condition, considering the weather - and wearing a rather dilapidated overcoat of no recognizable color.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

He lifted his head and managed a slight smile. His teeth were surprisingly white and straight. "It _is_ Hogmanay, isn't it?" he asked, his voice a touch husky, as if disused, and definitely not local.

Minerva felt a prickle of something run down her spine. Nodding politely, she surreptitiously pointed her wand, still in her pocket, toward the sill and murmured a very old Gaelic phrase. Her visitor didn't seem to notice.

"Will you come in?" she asked carefully.

The stranger's eyes searched hers for a moment, then he levered himself fully upright and gave a sketchy bow, wincing at the motion. "I am honored," he said, stepping forward.

Minerva stepped back and watched the doorway. There was a quick flash of light, too faint and brief to be noticed if one was not watching for it. The visitor didn't seem to see it, and certainly was not deterred by it at all. Minerva relaxed slightly. It was a trifle odd, but having the traditional tall, dark stranger cross her threshold just at midnight rather warmed her. She had little patience with divination, but a good omen from her childhood traditions was most welcome.

"A warm welcome and a happy Hogmanay to you," she said, holding out her hand for his coat.

He blinked at her, rubbing his arms as the fire began to warm him. He closed his eyes for a moment, lips moving as he searched his memory, then began to recite.

"Great good luck to the house,  
Good luck to the family,  
Good luck to every rafter in it,  
And to every worldly thing in it."

He fumbled with the buttons of his coat, but rather than removing it, he pulled a parcel wrapped in a worn handkerchief from an inner pocket and held it out to her with grave ceremony.

"A good New Year to one and all, and many may you see," he said as he placed it in her outstretched hand.

She unfolded the handkerchief to find a small bottle of amber liquid, a lump of coal, and an oatcake. She smiled at him. "Thank you. And a good New Year to you, and many more as well. It's a long, long time since I've had such an unexpected First Footer! Let me take your coat and pour you a dram by the fire. What may I call you?"

"I'm Toby," he said, moving stiffly as he divested himself of the coat. His attire was unremarkable - a heavy jumper and a rather worn shirt under it, old corduroys and stout boots. He would not have looked out of place on any of the local farms, but something was not quite right. Minerva couldn't put her finger on it, but something about him was familiar, though she knew she had never seen his face before.

"Welcome, Toby," she said, gesturing to a chair by the fire and pouring him a tot of whisky.

"I can stay only a few moments," he said hesitantly, as he sat down. "I was...sent to give you a message."

She arched an eyebrow. "A message? From whom?"

"I can't say, I'm afraid," he said, holding out a small, dirty envelope. "Here. I hope it's good news."

She took it and slit the flap with a finger. "Don't you know?" she asked.

He took a sip of his drink and shook his head. "I'm only a messenger."

She took out the folded piece of cheap paper and opened it up. She could feel the colour drain from her cheeks as the import of the letter sank in. "You say you can't tell me who sent this message?"

"No. It was sent on condition of anonymity." He watched her carefully as he sipped at the whisky as if it were a glass of warm milk.

She paced back and forth, then tucked the letter under her book and regarded her visitor. "Well, Toby, it is indeed good news, if it is reliable. I don't suppose you would know anything about that?"

He shrugged.

She studied him another moment then stepped forward and took up the poker to stir the fire. "Mustn't let the fire die on Hogmanay!" she said, adding a small log from the wood basket. She stretched, easing her back muscles and then leaned side-to-side, drawing in a long, careful breath as she did.

In a flash, she had her wand out and pointed straight between "Toby's" eyes.

"Can ye give me a reason, _one_ reason, why I should'na call the aurors right this instant?" she demanded.

He blinked at her. "Aurors? What's that, then? And what's that stick for?"

"Don't you play games with me, Severus Snape!" she said furiously. "Or shall we sit here for another...fifty minutes, until the polyjuice wears off?"

"Polly what? I'm sorry, madam, I told you, I can only stay a few moments. I have another engagement." He made as if to rise, but she waved her wand warningly.

"Don't think I won't use this," she threatened him. "In fact... _incarcerus!_ " With a swift wave of her wand, the antimacassars on the old chair transformed into manacles and a heavy iron collar and fastened around the man's arms and neck. Another quick flick anchored them to the old brick fireplace with heavy chains. Minerva gave a satisfied nod. "There. That makes things far simpler." She sat down and watched her visitor, noting that he showed no sign of being boggled at the display of magic.

"I don't know what--" he began.

"Be quiet. Unless you're ready to start speaking the truth and admit who you are, I have no interest in anything you might care to say." She picked up her glass and took a quick drink.

His expression tried for confusion but gave up and settled for desperation. "I told you, I can't stay. I really must go. Please, you have to let me go!"

"Oh, I don't think so. You have three choices. I can call the aurors now and turn you over; you can start telling me the truth; or we can sit here until the polyjuice wears off. You decide."

He was stubbornly silent.

She sat across from him, watching him fret and test the manacles until he gave up and slumped back into the chair. His face seemed a bit pale and sweaty, and he closed his eyes and groaned.

"Please...please, Minerva," he said, finally, "let me go. I can't stay."

After ignoring him for quite a while, she looked at the mantle clock. Five minutes to go...but that assumed he had taken the potion and apparated directly to her doorstep. She watched as he began to shake, and then his features began blurring. His hair darkened; his rosy complexion turned sallow; his nose sprouted forth like the beak of some predatory bird; and his eyes turned beetle black.

Minerva rose and held him at wandpoint once again. "Severus," she said.

"Minerva. Please. I...I can't..." he gasped, and suddenly she saw the side of his jumper grow dark and the stain began spreading to his weathered trousers.

"You're bleeding!" she exclaimed, reaching to jerk up his jumper. There was a hideous slash along his side, from the bottom of his ribcage angling down and disappearing under his trousers. She quickly transformed a pillow into a great mass of bandages and pressed them to his side.

He hissed in pain.

"Damn you, Severus Snape! What in Merlin's name have you gotten yourself into this time?" she muttered as she searched her memory for healing spells. The edges of his wound were green and black with Dark magic; she would have to do something about that before long, but for now, she needed to stop the bleeding.

Impatiently, she sliced open his clothing with her wand, then held it over the gash and began chanting, willing the bleeding to slow and stop and the wound to close. Ever so slowly, she drew her wand along the length of the wound, watching as the skin writhed and stretched, slowly, slowly closing until there was only an angry red line, rimmed by the Dark magic traces. She cast a web of golden light over the ugly tracery, catching all the barbed needles of power in its net and slowly pulling them free of his body. She channeled power into the roiling mass, burning the Darkness away until there was nothing left but a ball of golden light, which she sent into the fire and let it burst.

When she looked back, her prisoner-patient had passed out.

* * *

It didn't take her too long to build a fire in the guest room, make up the bed, maneuver Snape and his manacles into it, and transfigure his torn and stained clothing into a warm flannel nightshirt.

She did re-transfigure the collar about his neck into bonds for his ankles; he'd looked uncomfortable.

He must have been exhausted; he slept for hours while she sat beside his bed, wand in hand, waiting and watching. She'd found his own wand in his trouser pocket just before she'd transfigured his clothing. It was currently in an inner pocket of her dressing gown, as she'd also taken the opportunity to change into her night attire.

When he finally stirred, he tried to sit up and groaned when he found himself chained to the bed. "Minerva?"

"I'm here."

"As I do not seem to have bled to death...thank you," he said, eyeing his manacles and raising one eyebrow at the irony.

"You're welcome," she said calmly. She rose and pulled a vial out of one pocket. "Here, drink this," she ordered him, uncorking it and tipping it to his lips.

He watched her unblinkingly and swallowed without protest. "Agrimony, cranesbill, wound-wort, and dittany."

"Very good. It's one of your own, you know," she said, setting the empty vial aside.

He dropped his head back to the pillow and nodded slightly. "I recognize the formulation. From the batch I brewed three years ago?"

"Probably," she said. "It was in that 'emergency kit' you gave me for Yule, the year before last."

"Ah. Minerva...may I ask a question?"

"Certainly," she said, sitting back down.

"Why haven't you called the aurors? Or...the Order?"

"You'll keep," she said calmly. "And I've a number of questions of my own."

He sighed and closed his eyes. "Why did I do it? Did his protection and loyalty and..love...mean nothing to me?" His voice was bitter and weary.

"No," she said, leaning forward, "What I want to know is...how could you? How, after all these years...after all we have been to one another and everything we have shared, _how_ could you do what you did and _**not**_ tell me WHAT WAS GOING ON?!?!" Her voice had risen to a shriek and she didn't care in the slightest.

Severus was staring at her as if she had suddenly sprouted purple fur and a second head. "I..."

"You what? Severus, you _idiot_! Do you think I didn't _know_? That I couldn't tell Albus was fading slowly, dying by inches, all through last year? Do you think I didn't _ask_ him why he would appoint you to teach Defence, when we all know the bloody position is accursed? Just precisely how STUPID do you think I am, Severus Snape?" She was leaning over him now, practically trembling in rage.

"You...knew?" Severus stared at her, disbelieving.

"Certainly I knew Albus was dying! And I knew he expected you would be unable to teach for more than one more year. And if _someone_ had seen fit to _trust_ me and let me know what a terrible, terrible position he found himself in, I might have been able to _help_ him in some way." She caught him by the collar of his nightshirt and shook him, then let him drop back to the bed and turned away.

"Minerva," Severus said quietly, "Minerva, I could tell no one. I had sworn another Unbreakable Vow, and I did not expect to live out the year. Albus forced me, between that vow and the one I swore to him sixteen years ago, to obey him and prevent Draco from attempting murder, no matter the cost. If I had known you understood..."

Minerva sat back down. "I knew, Severus, when you came to my bed that night, after I saw his damaged hand. You had done everything you could...and it wasn't enough."

"No, it wasn't," Severus said, remembered pain in his voice. "But I suppose he would be pleased; his death has made me the Dark Lord's most favored servant," he added, bitterly.

Minerva pulled out her wand and re-transfigured his bonds. Severus brushed the antimacassars off his wrists and sat up. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Why did you come here, Severus?" she asked him. "You could have sent that message by owl or in a dozen other, less risky ways. And what happened to you? You could easily have died, you know. Taking polyjuice with a wound like that - it's a wonder you lived through the transformation."

"I couldn't risk that message to any other courier, and I needed to be certain you received it," Severus said. "As for the other...the charming Mrs. Lestrange is annoyingly suspicious and has a most regrettable tendency toward the dramatic."

"Lestrange? Then, she knows where your loyalty lies? Severus, you can't return! It would be suicide!"

Severus waved her concerns away. "She didn't know who she was fighting, or even why I was there. She was protecting a trinket her master had placed in a secure location; she fired off curses without really seeing her target. Excellent aim, nonetheless," he said, wincing as he pressed a hand to his side. At her look of concern, he assured her, "It will pass, Minerva. You have a deft hand with healing spells." He got to his feet and came to stand by her side, resting one hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Minerva. I should have let you know...somehow. I should have warned you, should have found some way."

"Yes, you should," she said shortly, feeling her throat tightening.

"I'm sorry," he said again, barely above a whisper. "I would have spared you all I could, if I had been able." He gently touched her cheek. "After all I have done...I cannot ask for your forgiveness, but...I regret all the pain I have caused you."

"Oh, Severus - after all these years, do you think I can't tell that what you did hurt you more deeply than anything anyone else could ever do to you?" She looked up into his shadowed eyes and reached to cup his cheek in her hand. "I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you," she chanted softly, stroking his cheek.

A shudder ran through his long, thin frame, and for a moment, grief was naked on his face. She pulled him down and kissed his forehead lightly, then cradled his face against her breast as he sank to his knees before her chair. "I forgive you," she murmured into his hair. "Always. For everything." She held him until the fine tremors ceased, stroking his hair and rubbing his back through the soft fabric of his nightshirt.

"It's very late, or very early, depending on which way you look at it," she observed lightly. "I think perhaps...we should get to bed."

He nodded numbly against her shoulder.

She rose, pulling him up with her. He looked at her in puzzlement as she took a firm grip on his hand and led him down the hallway to her bedroom. She stirred up the fire and turned back the coverlet before slipping off her robe.

Severus stood at the foot of the bed, staring at her.

"Severus, that habit of staring at me you seem to have acquired is most unattractive," she said with a touch of asperity. "Now, are you coming to bed, or are you not?" She shook her head in exasperation, removed her slippers and slid into bed.

Severus hesitantly approached the other side of the bed and sat down, watching her warily.

"Oh, for Circe's sake, Severus! Are you waiting for a special invitation by owl post? Now, come to bed!" She stretched out and held up the covers for him to slide in.

He obeyed, and stretched out beside her, cautiously keeping to his own side of the bed.

Minerva shifted closer to him. "Your feet are like ice!" she exclaimed as her warm foot came in contact with his freezing toes. "I'd almost forgotten how cold they can be!" She rubbed her foot over his, and shifted far enough to trap his feet between hers, chafing warmth back into them. She snuggled close and flung an arm over his familiar form, her fingers running lightly down his side, where she could still count his ribs, if she were so minded.

"Minerva?"

"Severus?"

"Are you sure...?"

"Sure? What can anyone be sure of in this world, Severus? I'm sure of myself and I'm sure of you. And that will have to be enough surety to be going on with." She tightened her arm about him and closed her eyes.

She opened them a moment later and looked at him. He was staring up at the ceiling, with a look of profound concentration on his face. "Severus?"

"Yes?" he ground out.

"Is something wrong?" She started to sit up and the arm she had wrapped around him slid across his waist and hip and...

Oh.

She smiled.

"Honestly, Severus, when are you going to learn that you need to _tell_ me things?" She shook her head and smoothed down the front of his nightshirt, smiling as her hand encountered the stalwart pole tenting it up at his groin. She slipped her hand under the hem of his nightshirt and took hold of him.

"Minerva!" he sounded scandalized.

"What?"

"What do you think you are doing?"

"Well, at the moment, I think I'm assessing the state of your erection, my dear. It's quite firm and seems pleased to see me." She curled her fingers around his shaft and gently stroked him.

"Min-er-va-"

"Shhhh. You just lie back and let me do the work, Severus. You've had a very trying day."

He groaned.

She stroked him a few more times, then tossed the covers aside and pulled up his nightshirt. Her old friend was standing stiffly at attention, pearly droplets of pre-come welling from the slit. She slipped his foreskin back and lightly spread the glistening fluid over his glans, smiling as his cock jerked in response. She bent and planted a kiss at the base of his cock, then wrapped her fingers around it and began delicately licking it like one of Honeydukes' Sweet Sugar Staves. She cupped his bollocks with her free hand, savouring their weight as she rolled them about.

She lapped at the head of his cock and nipped lightly at its edges, then finally slipped it into her mouth and sucked on it.

Severus made a strangled sort of noise, but she paid him no attention. She swirled her tongue over the glans, then took him deeper and rasped it over his shaft, putting pressure on the great vein that ran up the underside. She let him slip nearly free, holding only the head in her mouth, then breathed deeply, relaxed her throat, and took him down as far as she could manage. Which was quite a ways, she was rather smug to note, as her nose bumped his pubic bush. She slid her mouth up and down on him, working her tongue in swift little touches and long, lingering licks, until Severus was sweating and quivering with the effort to hold on.

"Minerva - I can't," he gasped, as she flicked her tongue over his glans again. "Can't-hold-on-"

She could feel the tension in him, his bollocks swollen and tightly drawn up and his cock like a hot steel rod in her grasp. "Then don't, my love. Let go." She took him back into her mouth and suckled him again, lapping at his shaft and then running the tip of her tongue firmly across his piss slit.

His hips bucked beneath her and he shouted as his cock jerked wildly, suddenly filling her mouth with spunk. She swallowed the bitter stuff, sipping and licking until he had fully spent and his cock softened and slipped from her lips.

She sat up, licking her lips and smiling at him. He looked blearily at her and gave half a wan smile. "Cat got the cream," he joked feebly.

She raised one eyebrow at him. "I trust I've properly warmed your cockles, then, Mr. Snape?"

He smiled and stretched out his arm to her, closing his eyes.

She wriggled up alongside him and kissed him, enjoying the flavor of his mouth mixed with his seed. "Good night, Severus. Sleep well, m'dear," she said, snuggling into his arms and absently levitating the covers back over them both.

"Happy Hogmanay, Minerva," he murmured sleepily.

"Happy New Year, Severus," she said, smiling. "'Tis bound to be a particularly good year."

"Hm?" He was nearly asleep.

"Oh, aye. It's a certain omen of good fortune. A tall, dark man bearing gifts was the first to cross my threshold this year. I've had the finest First Footer ever."

She closed her eyes and fell asleep with his familiar scent in her nose and the rhythmic beat of his heart sounding in her ears.

* * * *  
End  
* * * *  



End file.
